


Just Walk Away

by Miratete



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Body Horror, Eggpreg, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miratete/pseuds/Miratete
Summary: The Aerialbots were created from a set of Helexian Shuttleformers, a frame-type known for two things: their incredible flying talent and their nightmarish method of reproduction.





	Just Walk Away

-o-o-o-o-o-

Rodimus stared. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jazz's report. It was just that he couldn't quite believe the Aerialbots would do such a thing. It wasn't their thing. Or was it?

The captured seeker sat in Silverbolt's berth, twice the size of the other four in the back room of the hangar. A crudely constructed collar had been placed around his neck. A heavy chain connected the collar to the wall next to the berth. Was that Thundercracker? No. It was some another Decepticon jet with similar colors. Thundercracker hadn't been seen since the battle of Autobot City. And somehow, the blue seeker looked 'bloated.' Skydive sat beside him, stroking his plating gently as Fireflight hovered nearby. Silverbolt and the other two jets stood between their catch and the Prime.

“Silverbolt? Care to explain?” asked Rodimus.

“What's there to explain?” asked the Aerialbot leader with all conviction. “It was our time. We caught a Decepticon to use for what we needed.”

“This... this is wrong...” protested Rodimus calmly.

Silverbolt crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, an unusual gesture for him. He was normally so complacent and willing to obey. “Would you rather we took one of our own?”

Rodimus held his comment. Silverbolt did have a point. What difference did it make if the Decepticon fell in battle or died giving life to new Autobots? Perhaps there was even some justice dealt in the latter.

“Rodimus! Help me!” croaked the captive jet suddenly, raising a desperate hand toward the Prime, only to be shushed by Skydive placing a gentle hand against his faceplate and Fireflight dropping to the berth to assist. “You can't let them do this to me!” the Decepticon flyer cried out before being pushed down and muffled by the two Aerialbots.

“This goes against everything I stand for as the Prime, you realize,” said Rodimus, countering Silverbolt's defiance.

“And what are you going to do about it? This is our way,” came the challenging answer.

“What am I going to do?” Rodimus paused for a moment. “I'm going to leave.” And with that he turned on his heel and strode out, leaving First Aid and Ultra Magnus gaping in astonishment.

“Rodimus?” asked Ultra Magnus, trotting after him. Had their young Prime seriously just walked away?

“Rodimus! You can't just ignore this!” called the stunned medic after them. “This is... it's barbaric!”

“First Aid, it's our way. Without the hot spots, we have no other choice,” said Silverbolt, smirking as the Prime and his SIC made their exit.

First Aid sighed. The big jet had him there. When Jazz's report came in, he'd read up on the ancient breeding method of the Helexian shuttleformers. They were valuable fighters and amazing flyers, but their base means of reproduction was certainly barbaric by Cybertronian standards. “Well let me examine him, to make sure he's not in any pain or anything.” The medic took a step toward the jet, but Silverbolt stepped into his path and Slingshot darted in to catch him by the arm.

“He's ours.”

“Yes, I know that. But at least let me see if he needs any medical attention. You did capture him after all. I'm guessing that he didn't come back here without putting up some kind of a fight.”

“He's fine,” declared Silverbolt, something of growl tainting his usual tone of voice. “Keep your hands off of him.”

First Aid drew himself up as tall as possible, but it wasn't convincing. “I'm just going to scan him. Give him a look over. Make sure he's not hurting too much.”

“He belongs to us now.”

“Look here,” First Aid said more firmly. “I don't want him. I'm not going to try to take him from you. Just let me check him over. He won't be much good to you if he dies... well... yeah.”

It took some persuasion to convince the Aerialbots to let him get close to their Host, but eventually First Aid was allowed over, watched very carefully by the team. Except for Fireflight. Fireflight now seemed preoccupied with stroking the seeker's upturned wings.

“Please...” whimpered the blue seeker as First Aid sat on the berth next to him. “They've... oh Primus...” He broke down into frightened sobs.

“I'm just going to scan you. Make sure you're not bleeding inside. Does it hurt anywhere in particular?” He couldn't see any external damage on the blue frame. Of course the Aerialbots would need a mech in near-perfect condition for their purposes so they'd probably been very careful not to damage him.

Between sobs, the Decepticon indicated his abdomen. “Down there... my... my...” More sobbing. Skydive tried to comfort him by cradling his head with an unexpected tenderness and a gentle shushing.

Moving slowly as not to worry or startle the overwound Aerialbots, First Aid placed his hand on the jet's plating. “What's your name?” he asked softly.

“Cloudcrasher.”

First Aid pressed softly against the panels, watching the seeker for a reaction. The scanner came up with a number of results, most of which fell into the category of 'crushed' or 'displaced'. He turned to the Aerialbots watching him. “I'm going to open him up, but I'm not going to remove your eggs. But I may have to touch them. Are you all right with that?”

The five Aerialbots murmured amongst themselves for a moment, before Silverbolt answered. “Don't touch them much. They're ours. The Host is ours.”

“Yes, I know,” said First Aid calmly. Ratchet would have lost his patience by now and the five probably would have torn him apart in their anxiety over their Host. He then turned to Cloudcrasher. “I'm going to look inside of you now,” he said. “You will probably want to switch off your optics.”

The Decepticon took the advice and his eyes darkened.

Still moving slowly, First Aid began to open the paneling covering the mech's midsection, finding it difficult for the way it was being pushed upon from within. He found it necessary to cut five bolts and break two catches to do so. And on opening he found the sight he'd steeled himself for—the medical references had shown pictures of what to expect when a Helexian Shuttle-former had chosen a Host. Only in this case there were five of them using a single mech to feed and incubate their eggs.

Inside of Cloudcrasher were a dozen or so metal capsules filling every space within his body. Most were in the area of the gestational chamber, which had ruptured along one side. From each capsule, a cable connected to the lining of that chamber, an umbilical cord through which the developing mech would draw energy and nutrients. More cables slithering through Cloudcrasher's internals indicated additional eggs elsewhere in his body. After conducting more scans, First Aid found that the Decepticon held about two dozen of the Aerialbots' young. Some of the capsules had been wedged tightly between various components. Part of his fuel tank had even been crumpled to make room for seven of them.

First Aid sighed.

Cloudcrasher was going to die.

In an ideal situation, he could take a mech in this state and carefully remove the eggs and repair the damage that had been done. The eggs would be lost, and the Host would lose his gestation chamber, but that wasn't permanent should a replacement be found. Some medics had managed to create “birthing corridors” through which the hatching shuttles could escape with relatively little damage to the Host. But there were more than twenty eggs here, some of them in rather difficult-to-deal-with places.

And no. The Aerialbots weren't about to surrender their Host or the young he carried. And given Rodimus' refusal to deal with the situation, no help would be forthcoming. From a military standpoint, this was a win-win situation. One enemy warrior would die and two dozen new Autobot flyers would bolster the ranks.

First Aid closed up the unfortunate seeker and plugged in a medical connection cable. Fireflight moved on to stroking the seeker's chest.

::Cloudcrasher?::

::What's going to happen?:: came the timid response.

::You'll be fine,:: First Aid lied. He hated to lie, but this situation had little good news in it.

::Am I okay?::

::You're bleeding a little in various places, but your nanites have been making repairs. It should stop within a day.::

::What about the... about the eggs? They said they laid eggs inside of me.::

::They did.::

::Are you going to take them out?:: he asked quickly, hopefully.

::No. I can't without damaging them. But you'll be well taken care of until the eggs hatch.::

::When will that be?::

::A deca-cycle and a half. The eggs will not expand any, but they will continue to be uncomfortable as they press against your internals. I'm going to give you an infusion of nanites and transfluid that should help with the bleeding. And while you're here, the Aerialbots will do their best to keep you comfortable and fed.::

::You can't remove the eggs?::

::No.::

Cloudcrasher sighed.

::So just relax and do what they say. That will make it the easiest for you. Until the hatching.::

::And then what?::

First Aid forced himself to lie some more. Thankfully his visor and mask hid his guilty expression. ::Then you'll be free of the eggs and can go back to life as normal. Expect to be handed back over in a prisoner exchange.::

::Thank Primus.::

First Aid gave Cloudcrasher the infusion, still watched ever so carefully by the Aerialbots. Fireflight had meanwhile gone from massaging to poking and fingering the edges of some of the seeker's plating.

First Aid couldn't help but feel sorry for the young Decepticon—probably fairly new to Earth, probably one that had drifted to Chaar after the reappearance of Galvatron. At least the poor thing would be taken care of until the horrific moment came. If Cloudcrasher were lucky, he would be called in for the birthing. The medic could put him into stasis and he'd go peacefully, completely unaware of the tiny flyers cutting and clawing their way out of their Host.

First Aid picked up his tools, stowed them and his scanner into his medical kit, and then turned to leave. “If he needs anything or shows any signs of physical distress, comm' me,” he instructed Silverbolt.

“Of course,” replied the Aerialbot leader with a certain relief that the interloper was finally leaving.

And First Aid had almost made it to the door when Cloudcrasher cried out. “Stop! What are you doing?!” First Aid spun around quickly to see that the smaller members of the combiner team had gathered around the Host while Silverbolt stood nearby, hands on hips, watching over protectively. “No!! Leave me alone!!” Cloudcrasher's voice was full of panic.

First Aid hustled back over but Silverbolt, on hearing him coming, moved to block his path. Behind him it was obvious that the four others were holding Cloudcrasher down. “What's going on! What are you doing?” the medic demanded.

If an evil smirk had ever graced Silverbolt's face it was the one he was wearing now. “Fireflight's finally ready to lay. For some reason he was lagging behind the rest of us.”

“What?! The Host is full! There's no room inside of him for more eggs.”

“We'll find room,” said Silverbolt confidently.

Behind Silverbolt's back the Aerialbots closed in and Cloudcrasher's cries of fear became screams of terror.

“You have to let me take care of him! Let me at least give him a sedative or switch off his sensornet or something!” he pleaded. First Aid tried to step in but the Aerialbot leader refused to let him intervene.

“Walk away, First Aid,” cautioned Silverbolt. “Just walk away.” His glare was threatening.

For a moment First Aid held the Aerialbot leader's cold stare. But then, with optics filling with tears of frustration and helplessness, First Aid did just that.

-o-o-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-

The End

-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-o-o-

**Author's Note:**

> I know this story isn't my usual kind of thing, but this prompt at Tfanonkink is to blame:
> 
> REQ: G1 Prowl/Con of author's choice noncon, possible mutilation, oviposition, snuff  
> 2016-10-10 07:27
> 
> Okay, I read this story on Fanfiction.net some time ago where Polyhexians are feared because of their mating cycles, where they chase down a bot and frag them until the bot is Carrying. And not long after that I got this concept into my head that Seekers and Praxians are like parasitic wasps and lay eggs in another bot, forcing them to Carry the Praxian or Seeker's young. Crossed with the idea of the Polyhexian rutting story, an idea came to mind. What if Praxians and Seekers are feared because when they go into heat or rut or whatever you want to call it, they end up killing the one that they're laying eggs in. The term for the heat/rut cycle would be a 'laying haze' according to my muses. Anyways, when a Praxian or Seeker goes into a laying haze, they can't control themselves when mating. This results in them laying so many eggs in their chosen Carrier (called a Host when it's a laying haze) that the gestation chamber ruptures. They don't stop laying until they sense no more eggs can fit in the mech's frame. They are very territorial of the Host and will attack anyone, even another Praxian or Seeker or even their own mate if they have one, if the bot comes too close to the Host. And when it's time for the bitties to be born, because of the gestation chamber rupturing the bitties can't find the valve entrance and thus tear their way out of the mech's frame.
> 
> What I'd like to see is Prowl going into a laying haze and chasing down one of the Cons, raping the Con and using the mech as a Host. The Autobots are appalled by what's happening, especially when Bluestreak and Smokescreen explain everything, but the Autobots can't do anything about it. Some (like the Twins, Jazz, and Ironhide) would probably be like 'Eh, it means one less Con in this war, plus we'll be getting Sparklings!'.
> 
> Followed by this from another poster: 
> 
> Though as much as I'd love to see it with Prowl (forgive me OP), I'd also love to see it with one of the Autobot combiner teams. We really don't know where the Protectobots came from, do we? Instead of one of the team doing all the breeding, the five would take turns with the captured mech to deposit eggs, making protecting and caring for the Host a team effort. Gives a whole new meaning to the term "team building exercise," doesn't it? Bonus points for this perversion--the team actually cares for and pampers the Host despite knowing he's going to die when the pregnancy comes to term. All the physiological problems of being stuffed with objects in places they shouldn't be are glossed over with "Here, let me massage you" or "I brought you some high-grade to make you feel better" or "how about I give you a blow job?"


End file.
